


The Negotiator

by DelilahBlueEyes



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-28 13:15:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/674796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelilahBlueEyes/pseuds/DelilahBlueEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their fight, Belle stays over at the inn and returns in the morning with an interesting idea for an arrangement with the other townsfolk. Not smut. Could be expanded into smut and shenanigans later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Rumpelstiltskin awoke to a pounding on his front door that exactly matched the one in his head. After their argument the night before, Belle had called him from Granny’s saying that she would stay the night with them and that she would speak to him in the morning. He’d set down the receiver and smashed everything within reach until he found a bottle of fine whiskey in his hand, which he promptly downed before smashing that too. Now he was regretting his decision, feeling strangled in his suit and wincing in time with the steady, persistent beating echoing through his house. He staggered upright from the lumpy sofa and stumbled into the wall, using it as a support as he moved into the front hall. Recently broken curse or not, whomever was bothering him this early on a Saturday when he had a hangover and a reason to kill was clearly a very stupid individual. Depending on whether it was that air headed prince Charming or even the Queen herself, he was certain they would not be leaving his home in one piece. He jerked the front door open and the blinding sunlight stabbed into his eyes so that he dropped his head to shield them.

“What the bloody hell do you want?” He growled, one hand pressed over his eyes and the other bracing him against the suddenly vicious pull of gravity.

“I’m… sorry. I did tell you that I would speak to you today. Would you like me to come back later or…?” 

His eyes wrenches open to find Belle standing at the top of his stoop, the morning sun gilding her copper hair as she looked up at him with those ridiculously big blue eyes. His hangover seemed to slip to the back of his mind as he reached out toward her, almost involuntarily. She’d come back.

“Belle, I-.” He began to apologize when he glanced down and his heart froze.

She was wearing a suit. An obviously borrowed, cherry red suit with a skirt that was a tad too short to be appropriate for any actual work to be done in it. But it was a suit all the same. And the only woman he’d ever associated with suits was the only woman he’d ever truly hated. Had she gotten to his sweet Belle? Had she twisted his poor girl to her own use and set her loose to kill the beast yet again? His heart kicked up double time and he thought for a moment he may faint right then and there.

“Are- are you alright?” Belle’s timid question broke through his misery and brought his gaze back to her face. “I just- you don’t look very well and you’re wearing the same thing you were last night when… I left.”

He blinked at her a few times, stupidly before he took in the concern on her face. She was looking at him like he was insane, yes, but bless her, she also looked concerned. And if she was concerned, then she was still his Belle and the world would continue to spin.

“Yes, yes of course, dear. Just, ah, a bit of a headache,” he murmured. There was a knowing gleam in her eyes but she gave a tiny nod and for the first time he noticed the sheaf of papers in her left hand. “And what do you have there?”

She glanced down, apparently having forgotten it herself but now she straightened her shoulders and became more solemn and he almost shot straight back into panic.

“This is actually the reason I’ve come to see you so early. May I come in?” She asked, all business but not entirely unfriendly.

“Yes, of course. Go through to the kitchen. I’ll join you in a moment.”

After she had moved past him, bringing with her the scent of lemongrass and lavender laundry detergent, he closed the door quietly and stood for a moment with his forehead pressed against the cool wood. She was here, which was always a sign that all was (on it’s way to) right with the world, but that paper she used as a shield as she stepped inside could only bode ill. With a sigh he turned to a little decorative mirror hanging best to the doorway to straighten his tie and attempt to tame his hair. There was nothing he could do for the rumpled state of his suit and the dark circles under his eyes were a dead give away, but it was only Belle. She would understand.

By the time he made it to the kitchen she was sitting primly at his tiny formica table, riffling through her papers distractedly and the kettle was already heating on the stove. Two teacups had been placed on the counter, complete with some vanilla wafer cookies and milk and sugar. He took the hint and made them some tea, waving her quiet thanks away when he set it on the table before her and settled gingerly across the table. He watched as she drew a pen out of a hidden pocket somewhere and underscored a few lines, her eyebrows puckered slightly as she focused and occasionally chewed thoughtfully on her bottom lip. He tried to quash the urge to lean across the table and do that for her.

“So what is this about, dear? As you can see, I am not currently at my best.”

“I’m just going over some last little issues here… Yes, there we are. Now,” she set her things down, laced her fingers together before her on the table and raised those devastating blue eyes up to see him and he thought he may vomit. Perhaps she really was here to finish him off. Perhaps she’d had someone draw up some kind of true love divorce contract and she’d come to make him sign it. He thought he’d escaped this kind of fear long ago. It wasn’t fair for her to just waltz right back into his life and-. “About the dwarves.”

He looked at her like she’d just slapped him. “P-pardon?”

“The dwarves. Doc has told me that he remembered walking by the shop one day when you had a set of pickaxes on display, which they have now recalled are theirs. They want to know what you would ask in exchange for all seven of them.”

His mouth worked for almost a solid minute without any sound coming out while she calmly drank her tea and watched him with what he thought was probably amusement. When he finally thought he had a grasp of the situation he gulped down half his tea, ignoring the way it scalded his tongue and cleared his throat.

“You’re going to make a deal with me?”

“No, I am going to moderate deals that others wish to make with you. I will settle the terms and see that each interested party is happy with the arrangement before the contract is finalized.” She smiled and he knew he must look a complete idiot by how her smile grew when he didn’t return it. “So, about the axes?”

He was going to need a shower, a strong pot of coffee and perhaps a seat that afforded a better view down the front of that slightly-too-tight button down wrapped around her before he could continue this conversation. But he would do it anyway, because she asked and when could he ever say no his girl— even when she was trying to rob him blind and no he certainly would not give them their precious pickaxes for a discount at the drug store. He owned the bloody thing, why would he want a discount?

It looked to be a long day.


	2. Chapter 2

“And as you can probably understand they would like their wedding rings back for the vow renewal and they’re willing to offer, within reason, any aid you deem appropriate in trade. The only thing they are not willing to use as collateral is their child which is of course not even—“

Belle looked up from the papers spread out before her and paused in her speech, not that her business partner noticed. She wondered how long Rumpelstiltskin had been staring absently at her neck. His eyes were completely glazed and he was looking with such longing intensity at a specific point on her neck that she thought she could feel it heating up slightly. As she watched him watch her, his fingers twitched slightly around the handle of his teacup and tightened in a plucking motion. A thought occurred to her and she flicked her tongue out over her lower lip, shivering slightly at the way his eyes flooded with heat as they focused on the movement. He had the good grace to look embarrassed when he finally raised his gaze to hers and she twitched an eyebrow at him.

“Something you want to talk about, Mr. Gold?” She asked primly, but the teasing light in her eyes betrayed her amusement. He’d seemed a bit off lately. Now she supposed she knew why.

“I’m sorry, love. Last night was a long one and I’ll admit that I haven’t heard one word you’ve said in the past five minutes. What does Granny want?” He dropped his face into his palms, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“It’s Cinderella and her husband, and they want their wedding bands.” She smiled sympathetically at the vague sound he aimed at her words. “And I would prefer Belle or Miss French during work hours, please.”

His fingers parted to allow his eyes to sparkle out at her from the shadows as he responded. She wasn’t sure but she thought his face might have pulled up into a smirk. “Of course, Miss French.”

“Thank you,” She smiled and lifted her pen again, ready to take down his terms. “Now, what would you like in return for the rings?”

He snorted in reply. “What could those two possibly offer me? He works in a cannery and she is a maid. Hardly skills I could utilize.”

“Well,” she frowned at him across the counter and was interested to see that he was suddenly avoiding her gaze. “You don’t need any clothing washed or heavy things lifted?”

“I’m afraid not, my- Miss French. There is simply nothing they can offer me in trade for such valuable, intricately crafted pieces.”

Rumpelstiltskin did his best to seem remorseful about that, but really he’d never cared much for the petite blond and her even more petite husband. With all the work he’d invested in Snow and Charming’s relationship it was hard to really care about any other. He watched Belle struggle to come up with something, anything to keep her perfect record. So far she’d worked him through every deal she’d been approached with from the dwarves and their axes to the mayor and a certain childhood doll. So far, there was no hitch in the process that she had not been able to smooth over with a smile on her face and a song in her adorably optimistic little heart. But he watched now as a quiet sort of desperation crept closer and closer to the fore of her calm façade. He could always tell the desperate ones.

“Miss French, if I may propose a counter offer?” He gestured for the paper in her hands and she looked surprised as she handed it and her pen over to him. He scrawled his offer across the bottom of the page and paused to look it over before slowly handing it back to her and lowering his eyes to trace shapes on the marble countertop. There was no sound, no movement and he held his breath as he waited, too afraid to look up and see the possible disgust or disappointment. He reminded himself not to hold his breath while he waited for the inevitable slap.

“Well, I suppose that could work in this situation, as neither of the represented parties is able to produce a satisfactory service to trade. Sign here?”

Rumpelstiltskin did as bid, barely aware as he scrawled his signature across the bottom of the proffered sheet then stood to accompany her to the front door, hearing but not understanding her bright, idle chatter the entire time. When he’d watched her flounce off down the block and shut the door he collapsed onto the couch.

“What the hell just happened?” He murmured to himself, lifting his hands to push them through his hair and slapping himself in the face with something he hadn’t realized he was holding. When he’d pried it away from his skin and gotten it at arms length, he realized that she must have slipped the paper he’d written his counter offer on into his hand on the way out. She may have also kissed his cheek, but he couldn’t count on himself to have remembered that correctly. This paper bore her signature instead of his, so she must have switched them at some point and gotten him to sign the final copy of the document.

Well, he thought, setting the paper down on the cushion beside him and stood with a grin. It seemed that he had an evening to dress for. As he levered himself up the stairs to his bedroom, the words he’s written drifted through his mind again, with her added few beneath them:

_Would you like to have dinner with me?_

_Meet me at Granny’s at seven._

Belle stood before the floor length mirror in her over-the-library apartment and smoothed her hands down over her skirt. She was almost entirely sure this was going to be what she wore. A knee length, form-hugging dress, elegantly patterned with an intricate flower scheme in soft shades of lilac. She’d thought of the dangers she faced if she wore high heels and had almost settled on a pair of safe ballet flats before remembering the hungry look she’d caught on his face once when she’d visited him at the shop and caught him watching her legs while she watched. Her second tallest pair of stilettos should do the trick tonight. With her hair half up and some simple make-up applied she was just beginning to believe she may be ready to go when she noticed a loose thread on the left side of the skirt and was that seam entirely straight and maybe the forest green dress would be a better choice. But a glance at the clock revealed that she only had ten minutes to get to the diner.

She snipped the thread and straightened the bodice, smoothing down the skirt once more and taking a deep breath. Well, here goes, she thought, snatching up her purse and scurrying out the front door, hardly remembering to lock it in her excitement. She didn’t want to leave him sitting there alone too long (knowing him he’d showed up a good ten minutes early) and on the off chance that she got stood up, well, she looked nice and she could have a girls night out with Ruby.


End file.
